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I don’t think I can handle any more crazed fans today.
I shove myself up from the couch and twist the handle on the door. On the other side stands a very well put together Diana Swagger of Center Stage Marketing. Her red hair sits in a low bun against her neck and her pressed, tan suit flatters her curvy figure.
I look down at my torn black tank and jean shorts and panic surges through me. I’m a freaking disaster. I can only imagine what my hair and face look like.
Diana removes her Gucci sunglasses. “What the hell happened to you?”
I pull the ice pack away from my face and switch it to my left hand. My right hand rubs the moisture off on my shorts before I stick it out to greet her. “Hi, Ms. Swagger. Won’t you come in?”
Diana raises an eyebrow and doesn’t make a move to shake my hand. “You’re a complete disaster.”
She scrunches her nose while she digs her phone from her purse. I drop my hand down to my side. “Harold? Yes. Hi. I found her. She’s not…” She pauses and glances at me. “I’m not sure if this is going to work. You may need to come down here and get this account straightened out before we lose it completely.”
Oh no. She’s firing me already?
My heart leaps into my throat. If I don’t work for her, there’s no reason for me to stay on tour with Noel. “Please, wait. This isn’t normally me. I wasn’t expecting you this early. Please come in, give me a chance to explain. I’m begging you.”
Diana stares at me but doesn’t say a word. “Harold. I’ll call you back.” She ends her call and shoves her phone back in her purse. “Better be a damn good explanation.”
Relief floods me as she brushes past me to step onto Big Bertha and I close the door after she’s inside.
Diana looks around the bus. “You share this space with four men?”
I step around the counter and stand across from her. “It’s not so bad. Noel and I share the bedroom in the back. The rest of the guys sleep in the foxholes.”
Diana nods, but doesn’t appear surprised by the news. “So you and Noel are an item?”
I tilt my head. “Well, yes. But you already knew that, right? ”
“I had an idea.” She adjusts the straps that rest on her shoulder to hold up her purse. “This explains his motivation to get you here,” she mutters. “Typically we don’t allow our employees to have personal relationships with our clients. This account with Black Falcon is rather large, and since Noel Falcon chose you personally, I have to let this slide. Just be warned, if Noel wants you gone, you’ll be terminated. That is not up for negotiation.”
I swallow hard. Lose my boyfriend and I lose my job. Those are some hefty stakes. “Understood.”
Diana sighs. “Good. Now that we are the same page, let’s go over a few things, shall we?” She sets her purse on the counter and pulls out an iPad. After a few clicks she sets it on the counter and turns it in my direction. “Here is your contract. H.R. conveniently forgot to go over it with you, which is why I got so lucky. It’s standard, really. Basically, all it says is that you won’t sell, trade, or disclose any marketing campaigns we are working on for any of our clients. It also has a non-compete clause.”
“Non-compete?” I understood everything else other than that.
“That means if you leave or become terminated, you can’t join a competing marketing firm within the state of New York.”
I swallow hard. New York is the Mecca of advertising. Sure there are firms in other states, but my dream is a firm in New York. That’s where all the action is and where I live with Aubrey. But this is my foot in the door. This is my shot. I have to take it. Noel and I will be fine, right?
“Where do I sign?” I ask.
Diana hands me a pen and has me sign the electronic document. Once I’m done, she turns the device towards her. “Let me just email this back to the main office and we’ll get down to business.”
We chat for the next thirty minutes about how I am expected to find out what the client, Noel wants and how he wants his charity represented. Apparently, he told them he wanted me to have complete creative control over the campaign.
My stomach twisted into a knot.
This is a lot of responsibility for a first job. I’m expecting to have help, but Diana makes it sound like I am on my own. If this falls apart, it will totally be my fault.
Diana checks her watch. “Any questions?”
Only a million, but none I can ask, without making myself look even more foolish to her than I already do. “No, Ma’am. I think you’ve made things quite clear.”
She stands and straps her purse over her right shoulder. “If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.” She hands me her business card, but I don’t think she has sincerity about me calling her. “My car is waiting. I have a flight in an hour or so.”
I raise my eyebrows. “They didn’t allow you much time, did they?”
Diana cocks her head to the side. “If it’d been any other client, you would’ve only received a phone call from me, not a personal visit. That’s how important this client is to my firm. Mr. Falcon’s happiness means a great deal to me. So make sure he stays that way.”
There it is again, the little jab that I only have my job because of Noel. Apparently my marketing degree from the University of Texas means nothing.
I follow Diana out of the bus and watch her get into a black Town car that waits for her beside the bus. She doesn’t even look back, which confirms her pure loathing of me.
